Flightless
by muggleborn.dragon.ryder
Summary: 'He knew what he had to do now. His cowardice would haunt him forever if he didn't take the chance.' Drabble.


**A/N: No idea where this came from...I was listening to 'Sailing No More' from the movie and the writer in me was like, 'You could let Buzz have 'I'm just a toy' angst!' **

**I tried not to listen, but the writer won :)**

* * *

Buzz couldn't believe it.

He watched the screen go dark for a few seconds as he slowly opened his Star Command communication hatch and saw the words engraved on the top for the very first time.

'Made in Taiwan'.

He wasn't a Space Ranger at all.

When he closed his eyes, he saw the aisle of Al's Toy Barn, stocked with thousands and thousands of Buzz Lightyears just like him, Space Ranger after plastic Space Ranger, every one of them fake, flightless birds that could've taken to the sky had they been given a chance to spread their wings.

Buzz wandered from the room slowly, wondering if it was possible to feel any worse than he felt right now.

Woody's words came back to him as he clutched at the metal stair railing, looking out at the sky. _"You are a toy, you can't fly!"_

The sheriff's exasperation with him was suddenly much too clear.

No wonder Woody had despised him since day one. Buzz was a fake, just some plastic plaything for little boys and girls to play with…until eventually they got older and realized that Buzz was fake, too.

Once Andy outgrew his fragile and beautiful fantasy world of Space Rangers and cowboy sheriffs, once he outgrew dinosaurs and Mr. Potato Heads in this lonely and left-behind world of childhood in which broken toys tried to mend each other and failed, then Buzz would be left alone.

And for once, he fully understood every fragility that came with being him and how badly it would hurt when Andy was too old to play with them anymore.

The other toys, they just seemed content to be played with while Andy still wanted to play with them.

But Buzz saw their situation with frightening clarity and he knew: Andy had to grow up.

And once he grew up, they'd be gone.

But… a little voice in his head argued, quietly, so quietly Buzz could have easily ignored it, he could've pushed it away. But he recognized that little voice as hope and he gave his hope a chance to speak again but before he found a way to survive in this new and lonely life he saw ahead for himself.

But they could be wrong, hope whispered in its innocent little way. What if you can fly and you never know it? And one day, you'll spread your wings and you'll realize you can go anywhere and do anything and that all of you, even Woody…are more than just toys?

Buzz grasped the stair rail tighter, but he knew what he had to do now. His cowardice would haunt him forever if he didn't take the chance.

So he took the chance.

He climbed the stair rail and stood on the banister, spreading his arms wide like wings. He pushed the apple red button on his chest and it extended his wings to their five-inch span and he smiled, knowing what he had to do, what he _could_ do.

He jumped.

He felt his feet leave the metal railing and he saw the window high above him, but he knew he could make it to the sill and into the sky, so why…why was he falling? Why was the sill above him, not underneath his feet?

Why was he falling?

And then he hit the stairs.

They were hard and wooden and they snapped one of his fragile, fake wings backwards as he fell, hitting first one stair, then the next, then finally, solid ground.

He lay there feeling plastic and fake for a few solitary seconds until he became aware of pain. Looking hazily around, he saw his left arm lying a few inches away from him, too far to crawl and it wasn't worth it anyway.

How had he come to this, lying, vulnerable, at the bottom of a flight of stairs when at one point, he had been Buzz Lightyear, Space Range—no. He hadn't been. He'd just thought he had been.

His leg was twisted at an awkward angle. Pain was still roiling through the shoulder or what was left of it, anyway.

His wings were spread out, green and red lights on them still blinking feebly, portraying false happiness, as if they thought maybe playtime was near.

He fell back against the cold, hard ground, already flightless, newly broken.


End file.
